


Half-dozen batch

by Coils



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Arm Massage, Living Together, Massage, Other, Shoulder Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coils/pseuds/Coils
Summary: After some heavy lifting, poor Male Muffet's arms are sore and tense. Luckily, Reader is happy to help him with a massage.





	Half-dozen batch

“Alright, honeybug, All done here!”

You stepped into the hallway just in time to witness your bare-chested spider boyfriend emerging from the steam-breathing shower. Muffet huffed as he brushed his hair with his towel with one pair of arms, while the others stretched and caressed each other. He smiled and and closed his eyes, tilting his head.

“How’s the tea?”

You felt a warm gush of air flow through your body, all the way to your face. You fanned yourself and told him you had put the kettle on a while ago.

He slightly frowned as he pinched and rubbed his arms about.

“Well… that is good, sweetie, because I am SPENT. Excuse me if I need to take it easy for the day…” he sighed, reaching for his tank top.

One of the advantages of having a boyfriend with six arms was how handy he was with all your lifting and heaving needs, but perhaps this time you had pushed him a little too far. Maybe having him carry three out of four boxes had not been such a good idea. Ready to apologize, you inhaled, but stopped short as soon as you set your eyes on his smug, sultry look.

Oh boy.

His upper arms stopped short of shoving his shirt down his torso, then dropped atop your shoulders.

“Oh, wait a minute. No time for resting… we have to discuss my fee! You think I’m going to let you just have those crates moved for free?” He discarded his shirt on the couch, wrapping his towel around your shoulders and striding closer to you.

You huffed and asked what in god’s name was he babbling about now, but were interrupted and blushed as he rested his moist hair against the top of your head. The shampoo fragrance overpowered you.

Great. He was doing a thing now. You had only carried a single box upstairs, but you weren’t exactly in an ideal shape for fun and games, especially not his exhausting brand. He wriggled the tower around the back of your neck, simpering. You sighed and asked what his demands were.

“Why, cash, I want cash! What else could I want, dearie?” he mocked, shoving his smug grin on your face.

You flinched on the verge of trembling, and asked him if he really was doing that right now.

“Ahuhu, I’m afraid I am, dearie! And sorry to say, my services, factoring handling, transport costs, and overtime on this heat… come to 9.999 gold!”

You raised an eyebrow. Not because of his absurd demands, which you were used to, but because by this point in the teasing game he was usually assaulting you with at least four arms from every front.

You realized his other extremities were busy shrugging and doing all sorts of awkward, erratic movements. His usually bitingly smug smile had some tints of discomfort, fangs and lips twitching as he struggled to make his extremities occupy as much space as possible.

You politely told him to go take a cold shower to cool his head off, and possibly freeze himself solid in the process. He coyly waved his finger in your face, laughing under his breath.

“Oh, you know not even a new Ice Age would get between me and my money! You don’t have that much on you, do you? Ahu~! Now I’m going to have you write me an IOU… and you know how high my interest rate is!” He groaned as he attempted to shrug.

You sighed, already getting an idea of where all of this was going. You refused to even lay a finger on his shoulders until he got to the point.

“Got any ideas? Perhaps any favours to do, so I can cut you some slack?” he turned his back to you and stretched his six arms in the air, the webbing of multiple shoulders and back muscles tensing before your eyes.

You heard him try to dim the bothered coos and huffs under his breath.

Your blush flushed a mite redder as you sighed, covering your eyes in exasperation. How transparent could this idiot get? He could just ask for the stupid massage. He knew you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

Guess his predatory instincts drove him to always toy with his prey even if the kill was guaranteed.

As you were about to clamp his upper shoulders from behind, he turned around, waving a familiar leaflet in your face.

“Oh, wait a minute… my fee happens to be the price of a yearly pass for that fancy massage parlour I told you about the other day!”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“So… why don’t you treat my shoulders as a deposit? It doesn’t come even close to solving our debt, but… believe me, you will have more chances to pay me back! Ahuhuhu~”

You interrupted him by poking his shoulder as hard as you could, which made him drop the leaflet and cover his bare chest and shoulders. He giggled like a child.

“Aw, always spoiling my fun, honeybug! More like bitterbug…” he yelped between laughter as you pinched a generous chunk from his velvety forearm.

Attempting to out-smug him, you drolly asked if he’d rather get his massage or have you call an accountant to verify his estimations. You slightly twisted his spongy, muscular flesh, which sent him into a ticklish giggle fit, in attempts to shake himself away from you.

“M-massage please! Ahuhu… Better go turn the fire down. You know… I should take a while.”

He flexed his six arms, awkwardly groaning.

You nodded with a simper, patting his cheek and pointed towards your bedroom. He dashed past you, eagerly nestling himself above the soft mattress, sighing with relief. You turned the kettle’s heat to its lowest, then fetched a dry towel from the bathroom, and slowly made your way back to him. He moaned as you began ruffling his hair with the old towel. After you were done drying, you discarded the used towel, and wrapped your newly fetched one on his lower back.

You surveyed his bare back with your palms, his humming vibrating against your fingers. His voice turned to a groan the moment you reached his shoulders and forearms. Duh. You sat on your knees next to his back and pat his shoulders.

After whispering him to relax and leave everything in your hands, you kissed his neck, noticing his fangs peek off his nervous smile.

You started by drawing lines from his lower back to his shoulders with your palms, making his muscles creak slightly. You wondered how tense his muscles must have been… and also how effective human massage techniques would be when applied monster physiology.

Luckily, his pleased sighing seemed to indicate they were doing the trick. Once you took a pause to stretch your own arms, he turned his head back, giving you an underwhelmed smile.

“What? No oil, honeybug?”

You shook your head as you vigorously tapped his shoulder blades, and explained those were ludicrously expensive, and he was fresh off the shower anyways.

His only protest was a deep giggle.

“Oh, dear, such a cheapskate… that is the last habit of mine I wanted to rub off on you, ahuhu…” he groaned in relief. “It’s a good thing your palms are so tender and warm already…”

After testing the waters, you began clamping handfuls of his lower back between your thumb and index. You exerted enough pressure to compress his muscles, shy of pinching him, and began kneading and wobbling them in a semi-circular motion.

He hummed.

“Oh my… those hours teaching you to knead dough were a good investment…”

You murmured and nodded, a smile beaming in your face. The touch of his skin was as pleasant as ever. Beneath his delicate hide, the well-sculpted muscles within gave it a firm texture, with a smooth, cushiony result. It truly befitted such an elegant monster. Grazing his skin simply never got old. This was just a very pleasant excuse for you both.

Ecstatic, he puffed through his nostrils, his six arms going limp at once.

You took this as a signal to get working on the part of him that needed the most attention, and started driving his multiple shoulder blades apart. The soft, fleshy crepitations of his muscles tickled your thumbs as you slowly drew downward lines on his ample, segmented back. You took your time with each pair, meticulously caressing every velvety corner, and making sure you thoroughly slid your fingertips inside every gap in between.

You licked your lips.

His sighing and moaning were out of control. He dove his face right into his pillow.

You begged him not to shoot his web all over you until later, because you were just getting started.

He responded with a muffled melange of mumbling and laughter.

Slowly, you began to move your fingers further up his wide forearms, initially dragging them as hard as you could, eventually slowing into soft caresses as you noticed the muscles softening up, the tension noticeably crumbling between your touch. You repeated this process for his left and right arm, almost salivating at the thought of this feast for your fingers not being even halfway over.

“Oh my god, you found it… there’s the bad stuff…”

You could almost see his dopey smile through the back of his head.

Your breath began growing heavier as well. Not because of physical exhaustion or discomfort. Your posture was impeccable, all the weight behind your massage came from your hips.

You were just too caught up in the exploration of his Adonis-like physique.

He definitely had bulked up this season. Being a former inhabitant of Hotland, the summer heat only seemed to make him want to work out harder. His arms showed that in spades. They had never been nothing to sneeze at, but lately, they had simply exploded, along the grip of his hugs and size of his dumbbells. An extra effort had definitely been made by him as of late.

Perhaps it had something to do with how many times you told him his arms were your favourite part of his body.

You buried your nose in his ample biceps, nudging against it. He slightly winced, then immediately relaxed back, giggling. The thick muscle pillow was more than thick enough to accommodate your face, and just as velvety as any you had ever rested against.

“… Oh dear. You’re enjoying this too much. I should charge you for it instead!”

You laughed through your nostrils as you leant against his back. After driving his fringe away, you whispered he smelled really nice. This prompted a deep shade of purple washing over his face.

His blush deepened as you rested your chin onto his forearm and slowly let your tongue out, sloppily licking a line across the length of his arm.

He moaned against the pillow.

Your next licks were slower and more deliberate, but you pressed as hard as you could, looking to have the same effect your regular massage strokes had accomplished. By his continued fidgeting, you suspected you were right. And you were not having a bad time either. The smell of shampoo, his warm skin, the texture of his muscles, his flustered reaction.

You were very glad you could potentially do this six times.

He looked back, awkwardly grinning.

“H-h-honeybug, if you do this for every arm you’re going to drive me insane…”

You pressed your thumbs into his shoulder blade and wiped your drool off him with a fingertip towel. Pinching his cheek, you voiced your agreement by saying he’d better subtract six times the normal fee from you debt. He sheepishly snickered.

Working with your fingers, you began stroking two of his arms length-wise. You worked leisurely, not sure if enjoying yourself as much as he was, but definitely making the most out of it as well. Going from arm to arm, the more you worked on him, the more you realized just how much his impeccably sculpted physique needed this. He had been working out so hard all summer.

You sighed, whispering you envied how amazing his figure looked, and his energy in keeping his routines up even with this scorching heat, then apologized for having failed to join him in his exercises lately. He cooed as he shook his palm in a dismissive gesture.

“Aww, honeybug, that’s not-“ a sharp moan interrupted him. “s-so bad… True, you don’t have as much energy lately but… at least you have not gained any weight this summer. Don’t tell me that’s a small feat coming from a baker’s sweetheart!”

You took one of your hands off him to survey your own stomach. He was not entirely wrong.

“Me on the other hand, come winter, I’ll be dropping dead on your shoulders while you carry my sorry ass around! Ahuhuhu~”

You leant onto his shoulder and gave him a timid peck, then remarked his was an ass well worth carrying, with all he had done for you. His expression relaxed into a tranquil smile.

“Ahhh… my little honeybug is so sweet... Thank you, dearie.”

You smiled back, sliding your indexes across his wrists. You were already done, but you simply re-treaded massaged portions of his skin, kneading, petting and pressing for both your enjoyments.

His eyes glistened as he looked at you over his shoulders.

“Come to think of it, I have done a lot for you, haven’t I? So many ‘free’ baking lessons… With how the cost must pile up, I should just make you my permanent massage slave!”

You rotated your fists between four of his shoulders in silence.

“Tighten a leash around your neck and tug it every time my poor arms need some relief? Ahuhu~”

Your gaze became unfocused, just as you felt your palms sink into his soft lower back.

Your dignity was replaced with an overpowering need to drool.

“Just teasing, honeybug. I’d never do that…”

Your gaze darted around as your fingertips drew aimless lines across his muscles.

“Why waste money on a real leash, if I already have an invisible one wrapped up nice and snug on you?”

He forced your palms off him as he rolled over to rest on his back, wrapping the towel around his neck. You found yourself leaning against his flat abdomen with your legs between his lap, devoured by his smug, sultry stare. He licked his lips, his six claws slowly advanced towards your midsection, pointy fingers wriggling.

“Who knows? Maybe if you’re a good enough pet… you might earn a triple massage yourself…”

The kettle whistled, giving you a perfect excuse to jump off the bed and flee towards the kitchen.


End file.
